Coping Tradition
by AnonymouslyAddicted
Summary: A story about leaving. And coping.


**A/N** : Eh, I don't know. I had something entirely different in my head when I decided to write this. Well, at least for part of this story. It turned out to be more of a mess than an actual story, unlike what I planned. I'm really sorry. I should've written this earlier, maybe then it would've been what I wanted it to be. Either way, this episode left me quite speechless (well, not fic-wise), and it was simply brilliant and I'm all about angst these days, so there you have it. I didn't forget about my promise regarding Sandcastles in the Sky, I will get to it! Reviews would really make me smile.

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 **Coping Tradition**

"We've got to tell the kids. All of it". Henry was leaning closer to her because he _knew_. He knew that the minute the words leave his mouth, there was no turning back. They have been coping. Both of them, together, since the attack. They didn't know much, and if there was something that frustrated Elizabeth to no end, was lacking information when she clearly needed it. But they were in this together, and somehow, they were able to hold onto each other and stay sane. That was until the note. He spoke to her when she was on the plane on her way back, but never said a word. To be fair, she never said anything about what happened at the palace either. He didn't want to worry her. He didn't want to worry her when he wasn't around to help her handle what he knew was coming next.

"Oh my god" Elizabeth breathed, the words so silent he barely heard them. She leaned her forehead against his, struggling for a breath when the air in the room suddenly became too thick. Her hands moved to grip his arms tight, feeling the walls closing in around her. She clung to him, trying to steady herself with his presence. With her eyes closed, all she could see were the letters written on that white page – _We can get to your family any time_. She tried to shake it off; they couldn't, she had security, she was the Secretary of State. There was no air – not in the room, not in her lungs. She gasped, her chest rising and falling in rapid motions, her fingernails digging into his arms. He tightened the hold of his own hands of hers, his thumb rubbing her skin, desperately needing to soothe her.

"Baby, breathe with me" he whispered. She was trying, but nothing. "Elizabeth" he called louder this time, "deep breaths, baby". He took a deep breath himself, coaxing her to follow. He hated this routine, this drill the doctor once taught him. He wanted to put it to rest; he wanted it to be _the past_ , but it kept haunting her, haunting them, into the present. With each threat to the ones important to her, it was there again, reminding him of how he let her walk out the door only to have her return with this thing that will forever be a burden. He took another deep breath, exhaling. It was the air she needed so badly. She tried again, filling her lungs before letting out a trembling exhale. "Again" he said, repeating his motions. She followed, mimicking his actions, until slowly her heart rate slowed to normal, her breathing regulated. He closed his eyes at the sound of her even breath. At least he was still able to manage her attacks without the pills.

He stood then, offering her his hand and pulling her to her feet. "I'm not going to let anyone or anything hurt them. Or you".

She sighed. If only it was really in his hands to prevent anything from ever happening to either one of them. Just hours ago she found herself surrounded by guns. But he didn't need to know that. He didn't need the approval for his worries. She was under a threat, a constant one. It's a factor of her job, and no matter how many agents followed her around, there was no stopping it. But it was _her life_ , not the kids. The thought of putting her kids' life in danger made her sick to her stomach. She could handle the fear, the terror that came with her job. But she couldn't handle it if it was threatening her family. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, seeking the reassurance of his presence. They will figure this out together, they had to.

"Welcome home" he whispered into her hair, wrapping his arms around her.

"Hmm" she hummed in appreciation, sinking further into his embrace. "I liked your previous welcoming a lot more" she muttered and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Continue this in bed?" he whispered in her ear.

She nodded, moving to meet his eyes as she pecked his lips. She followed him to their bedroom, crawling under the covers after changing their clothes. He instantly wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to lie against his chest. His fingers traced her skin, slow and gentle, lulling her to her much needed sleep. He smiled at the sight of her. She was calm now, relaxed. She looked as if nothing in the world could hurt her. It was just an hour before that terror took over her, threatening to steal her breath. Now she lied still, her chest rising and falling in the same rhythm as his. This was the last vision of hers that remained in his mind as his own eyes fell closed, allowing the stress of the day carry him to his own needed sleep.

"Elizabeth!" he cried, calling out to her in despair. "Please" he pleaded, gripping her hand tightly.

 _"I think that you should wait a year to remarry"._

"Please, don't go" he tried again, his voice trembling as tears began to slide down his cheeks.

 _"Make sure the kids don't like new Mrs. McCord more than they like me"._

 _"You don't have to go. You can still…"_

"Baby, don't leave! I can't lose you!" His head was turning from side to side, his fingers digging into her skin as he held her close to him

 _"Dr. McCord, it's Nadine Toliver"_.

"No!" he cried out loud, more tears spilling from his eyes.

"Henry" Elizabeth called for the third time, her hand gently rocking his body, trying to wake him up from his nightmare. "Wake up" she tried, noticing as his features slowly changed and his eyes flickered open. He caught her gaze, blinking the tears from his eyes. "You had the dream again" she whispered.

"Yes" he nodded, moving his fingers on the marks his grip left.

"This hasn't happened since…"

"I know" he admitted.

"Henry, nothing happened in Algeria. I came back, I'm okay. This is not Iran".

"But it almost was" his voice was low now, swallowing back his tears.

Her eyes darkened as she realized he knew what happened at the palace. She didn't want him to know. He was worried enough without knowing that she almost didn't come back. Again. "I wasn't alone in there".

"Two agents against dozens of armed men. I don't like the odds of that. And neither did they".

"What did Matt tell you?"

Henry sighed. "Enough to know that you were outnumbered, and that your life was in danger. And that this could've easily been Iran again. I know you had to go, but I can't stand it".

"I know, it's why I didn't tell you".

"Babe, the alternative allows my mind to go to dark places, and I'm not sure which is better. Besides, I need to know that I can at least trust you to tell me the truth. I can't protect you from this. Sometimes, even your Detail can't protect you from this. And this thought scares me to death".

She rested on her elbow, her eyes fixated on him. "Maybe you should go back to the therapist?"

"So she can tell me I need to accept the fact that there's a 50% chance you might die before me? No, thank you".

"Henry…"

"Elizabeth, she didn't get it. No one gets it. No one outside of you and I knows what it's like, understands this thing we have. I don't know what I will ever do if I lost you, and the thought of it makes me sick. I can't even imagine this, because it's just too painful. I don't want to find out what it feels like without you. I can't accept a life without you, and there's nothing you or any therapist can say that will change this".

"But you should talk to someone… That dream…"

"I'm talking to you. The only person in this world who would understand".

She had to close her eyes to his words. He was right. It was only the two of them that could comprehend the profound love they had for each other. "But I had my eyes on you. When you were in Pakistan. I knew you were accounted for. At least for the majority of the time".

"And yet, you could barely close your eyes even after I came back".

Turning her look away, she swallowed the lump in her throat. The memory was still painful, still vivid. He came back without a scratch, and it still took her weeks to finally relax again. "I'm sorry I went" she finally said, meeting his eyes again.

"It wasn't…" he trailed. "It wasn't just that. The panic attack…"

She nodded. The panic attack was the constant reminder of what happened. Of how he almost lost her. Of that horrible time he sat still, not knowing if she's alive, until finally she came back to him – a shattered, damaged form of her. No matter how much she wanted it to go away, it will forever be engraved in his memory, in hers.

"I need you to…" he muttered softly, snapping her out of her thoughts. "I need you to stop kissing me like it's the last time. Because I am fighting so hard not to make you stay. I don't want you to go, and I sometimes want to tell you that I don't care that you have to. I want to play the _husband card_. I almost did yesterday. So I'm hanging on to dear life, and when you kiss me like that, and then you walk away… It hurts in every part of my body".

She pressed her lips to his, kissing him desperately, allowing their tongues to move together. He moved, pushing her on her back and climbing on top of her, pressing his weight to her slim figure. Their lips never parting, moving together, demanding. Resting her hands on his chest, she pulled away, panting. "I need you to remember that I love you. That I'm doing this while knowing how much this pains you, but I still love you. I need you to remember that if you ever do play the husband card, that I will stay. You will always come first".

"I know" he said, leaning closer again and kissing her softly. "Which is why I only do this in my dreams" he offered a small smile.

"Another family coping tradition?" she giggled.

"Just as long as we are coping together". He kissed her again, his hand tracing her skin, a reassurance that she was really there, that she was alright. Threading her fingers in his hair, she pulled him closer, letting her hand rest on his chest, over his beating heart.

"Now that's a proper welcoming" she breathed on his lips when their kiss ended, smiling at him and blinking back her tears.


End file.
